


flesh and skin

by Nellsie



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Blackwatch Era, Developing Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-14
Updated: 2018-05-07
Packaged: 2019-04-22 14:53:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14311125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nellsie/pseuds/Nellsie
Summary: Jesse and Genji develop a relationship over the years, and it deserves a bit of exploring.





	1. Chapter 1

Jesse tries to punch Genji in the face, and in return Genji darts to the side easily.

The buildup behind the swing offsets Jesse’s footing, and he quickly attempts to regain it. Genji takes advantage of this, maneuvering his way behind him. Jesse can hear the sound of the knife as Genji unsheathes it, and he takes the opportunity to kick behind himself. Genji falls to the ground.

From the observation platform, Gabriel says, “Good reflexes, Jesse.”

Genji still lies on the floor. He props himself up using his elbows. Jesse holds out a hand. Genji reaches out with his scarred hand.

“You alright, partner?” Jesse’s hands are calloused, which isn’t a surprise. His voice is a deep southern drawl, but there is a certain lilt to it. A lightness in tone that Genji is unused to, these days. He wonders how Jesse can be so nonchalant in their circumstances, but Jesse simply is who he is, and Genji doubts there is much logic to it. He nods quietly.

He says, “Let’s run through it again.”

They run through it again. This time, Genji manages to punch Jesse in his throat. They call the practice matches even.

* * *

Aside from a history of underground operations, questionable deeds, and crime, Blackwatch carries a very worldly scope on its shoulders, and with it a need to travel. Genji and Jesse sit together on the plane.

Genji says, “I don’t see why you smoke so much,” while staring at the cigar between Jesse’s lips. Jesse blows a puff of smoke from his mouth.

“Neither do I. Nasty habit, I suppose,” says Jesse.

Genji simply stares back at him. Jesse has brown skin and eyes and hair. His beard is scruffy but Jesse swells with pride whenever it is mentioned. His hat is tilted a bit to the right. His nose has been broken at least once, but it has healed perfectly fine. He has a tattoo on his arm. Deadlock.

He should stop staring. He doesn’t.

“A nasty habit,” echoes Genji.

They don’t talk much, but not for lack of Jesse’s trying, for Jesse has been _trying_ ever since Genji was first added to the Blackwatch roster. Genji is simply not a conversationalist, lately.

He used to be, though. Had they met even a few years ago, Jesse and Genji would be wonderful friends, because Genji was very good at making friends, then. He used to be _such_ a conversationalist. Genji Shimada, the charming younger brother. The little sparrow, who could sing its heart out with no consequence.

(There are consequences to all things, but the sparrow doesn’t know that. It doesn’t know of the snakes climbing the branches and approaching the nest. It simply knows to sing.)

“Not much of a talker, are you?” Jesse says.

No, not much of a talker at all, Jesse.

* * *

The trip takes them to Lijiang Tower, where Gabriel is having some tense negotiation with a Talon employee. There is no need for Jesse or Genji to be there, but they are Blackwatch agents, and there is always an underlying danger presented to their squad leader. It is better to be safe than sorry.

They mostly just stand outside the door.

Moira observes the state of Genji’s body,

(if it can even be called a _body._ if this can even be called an _existence._ if she can stare at it and not think of the improvements she would give an omnic. if she can look at the human and omnic parts in succession and think, _this matches)_

and she says, “You’ll need a tune-up when we get home, Genji.”

She says tune-up, and it bothers him greatly. Moira does that. She gets under people’s skin, whether that can be achieved with simple words or if it must be carried out by the physical digging of her nails under skin. It’s all a mere speech or surgery away.

Genji nods. He doesn’t say anything more.

Jesse doesn’t say anything, either. He’s smoking another cigar, paying attention to the space in front of him. Genji shouldn’t stare, but he does.

* * *

“Wish we did more missions that involved more than just standing around,” they’re in another plane, flying back home. Genji silently wonders what went down in the meeting between Gabriel and the Talon employee, but there is simply nothing for him to say.

Gabriel seemed to be in a bad mood, earlier.

“I mean, honestly, not _one_ person could’ve shot at us? Not one? At least then it’d be exciting,” says Jesse, who leans back leisurely. Genji blinks at him.

He says, “I suppose we’ll have to wait for someone to pick a fight with Reyes another time,” there is a pause as he mocks pondering, “It should take a very long time for that to happen. Maybe a week.”

Jesse says, “Was that a joke?”

Genji says, “Well, having to explain it sucks out the humor.”

Jesse chuckles, “No, I mean,” he says, “I didn’t think you told those.”

“I am a man of many sides,” Genji says. Jesse brightens when he laughs. He has very kind eyes.

Jesse grins, “So I see,” he says.

That’s where it starts.

* * *

Genji falls for the same trick again, wherein Jesse swiftly kicks him and knocks him over, but this time he doesn’t fall, and instead slides to the side, grabbing one of Jesse’s legs and pulling before scrambling to standing position and seeing Jesse on the floor. He unsheathes his blade, holding it to Jesse’s chest as an indicator of victory.

Jesse swallows, but he’s grinning. Genji notices.

Gabriel says that the tactic is sloppy, but he’s improved. Jesse agrees.

* * *

Genji is in Moira’s office for hours.

She says, “We may need to replace some of the hardware here,” as she hooks a wire into his arm, “These loose wires you have behind the head here are simply… inconvenient.”

Genji says nothing.

Moira says, “You know, it wouldn’t be so hard to simply transition you into a more functional cyborg body. Perhaps with less,” she looks at his arm. The non-robotic one. “friction, let’s say.”

Genji says nothing, but he thinks, _I would die before I let you do anything like that._

Moira says, “We will also need to work on your internal heating systems. You’ve stated an extreme discomfort in cold places, would you say that the robotics contribute to that?”

Genji says, “Yes.”

* * *

Gabriel is often in bad moods, these days, but he isn’t always. Sometimes he is happy, and when he is it seems as though a weight has been lifted off of his shoulders. The lightness, in turn, extends to the rest of Blackwatch.

Gabriel is not in a bad mood today. He says, “I think we should take a break,” before Jesse and Genji can spar, and so they do.

They eat in the mess hall, and Gabriel talks about a mission long since completed with Jesse. They laugh sometimes, and they reminisce. Genji watches them talk to each other.

Genji examines the faces of others. He examines their motivations and personalities, too, but that sort of information emerges over time. It is an unconscious gathering of information. Faces, though, are something Genji is conscious of. He understands them.

Jesse looks boyish next to Gabriel, but they are both handsome in their own ways. Gabriel is classically so. He is athletic, with high and somewhat hollowed cheekbones. His eyebrows are strong. His hair is shaved on the sides. His voice is kind, and he cares. Genji has grown accustomed to Blackwatch, and the softness of his commander is something he is grateful for, but that is not to say Gabriel is a malleable leader. He cannot be shaped, because he is defined by his own goals, and Blackwatch is used to orchestrate them.

His goals just happen to be helping Overwatch. Genji admires the loyalty, at the very least.

Jesse, in turn, is a bit younger. It’s the eyes that draw Genji in, usually. They are dark brown and observant, despite Jesse’s casual outside. They scan every room and every face. Genji can tell, because he does the same.

There is something about Jesse that appeals to something in Genji. He watches him speak to Gabriel, all smiles and easy speech.

Genji keeps staring.

* * *

In practice, Genji works to deflect bullets from Jesse’s revolver. It works well, though Genji sometimes stumbles when it comes to speed, which is uncharacteristic.

Genji doesn’t stumble, not usually, but he is off today. He is off a lot lately.

Gabriel raises an eyebrow, but neglects to chastise Genji or ask for an explanation. He simply allows them to retire to their rooms.

* * *

Genji can’t sleep. He can hardly try. His blood pumps but it passes through an unfamiliar body. He is an inbetweener, and he can _feel_ things.

His other arm. His legs. His jaw. He can feel them, but they aren’t there. They are shiny and new. They are groundbreaking technology, and he hates it.

This happens often.

When he gives up on the idea of sleeping entirely, he knocks on Jesse’s door, and Jesse opens it.

* * *

“You do that a lot,” Jesse says, “the staring.”

Genji stares. Jesse’s room is barely decorated, which is wise. The base is not a good place to leave valuables. They are just sitting on the bed. Talking. Their hands are close enough that their fingers barely touch.

“I don’t mind it, it makes sense,” Jesse says, “Hell, I do the same thing sometimes.”

Genji says, “I’ve noticed.”

Jesse says, “Of course you have.”

It’s quiet for a moment. Genji doesn’t mind the quiet, nowadays, but years ago he hated it. Sometimes it still irritates him, but in this new form, in this new _life,_

(because it is truly a _new_ life)

he has grown accustomed to it.

He says, “What have you noticed about me?”

“The eyes,” says Jesse, “you stare, but you get this look. Like you wanna say something. I get curious about it, but I don’t ask.”

Genji wants to say something. “You have a very easy smile,” he says, “It makes it easier for people to talk. You know this.”

Jesse says, “I have never known a thing in my life, Shimada.” He is smiling.

Shimada. Genji hasn’t been called that in a long time. It feels strange. Like an article of clothing he’s gotten too big for, and yet it should fit. It really should.

“Genji is fine.”

“As I said, I have never known a thing in my life, Genji,” Jesse says. They sit in silence again, and Genji thinks. He thinks and he stares and he allows the ideas to process within his mind.

“My eyes,” he says, “are enhanced. They aren’t naturally this… red.” The red is unnatural and obvious. Another indicator of Genji's outsider status, because he is an outsider among humanity, now.

“I figured,” says Jesse, who is much less pessimistic about the eyes, “It was either a cyborg thing or, you know, you hit the jackpot in the genetic lottery,” he pauses, “What color are they, y’know, naturally?”

“Brown,” he says, and he turns to Jesse. They are very close.

Genji is in his mid-twenties. He is a Blackwatch agent, but not particularly by choice. He is a cyborg, but he certainly doesn’t like being one. He is a Shimada, but that _is_ might very well be a _was_ in the eyes of many others.

(It is not the snakes who endanger the singing sparrow, it is the others in the nest. He doesn't sing the same song as they do.)

He is caught in the interim between man and machine. Between human and omnic. He is undefined, and it truly does frustrate him, because nothing really makes sense these days.

Jesse makes sense.

“Brown,” Jesse echoes, “I can see it. I mean, you know, I can’t _literally_ see it, but I think it’d be fitting.”

Genji says, “Can I kiss you?”

There’s a moment of silence. Jesse lifts a hand to tilt up Genji’s chin, and their lips meet. It’s a little odd. Genji hasn’t considered the logistics of his literal robotics paired with kissing, but it’s nice. Jesse’s lips are soft.

They pull apart after a moment. Genji shouldn’t stare, but he does.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genji and Jesse and everything else, including but not limited to Gabriel, the main division of Overwatch, and a deepening relationship.

Genji and Jesse practice an exercise in discretion. Their relationship remains quite the secret to their coworkers, and quite the mystery to themselves.

In the days since the kiss there has been a lot of sneaking around, a lot of kissing, and a lot of nights spent in each other’s rooms. Usually Jesse’s. It’s nice, being there, enjoying time with him. Such a connection is something that Genji has been poignantly lacking in recent history. This closeness is something he has grown unfamiliar with, and so the effect it has on him is fairly noticeable, at least to himself.

Genji wonders if Jesse can see it.

He falls asleep in Jesse’s room, but the daylight barely shines through the window when Jesse wakes him up with a gentle shake.

He presses a quick kiss to Genji’s lips before he explains the abrupt awakening, “Practice today, sugar,” he says. He uses pet names, and Genji is quick to find it endearing when he is certain that his past self would find it embarrassing. Sugar, darling, honey, such words are easy on Jesse’s tongue and natural in his vocabulary.

Genji is so unused to this. To this closeness, to this gentleness, to these words of affirmation. He shouldn’t get too swept up in it—such things are fleeting in nature—but they do get to him, and he has no intention of rejecting these emotions, not when they are so uncommon these days.

“You should get back to your room,” says Jesse, “We don’t want anyone to think something’s going on.”

No, they don’t want that at all. Genji can hardly picture the reaction they’d get, but there is no itch to figure it out. Still, he falters. “Maybe I could stay just a little longer,” he says.

Jesse’s eyebrow arches, “Now, Genji, you know that’s testing a limit.” He’s sitting up, his shoulder leaning against the wall the bed is pushed up against. It’s hardly more than a mattress. Blackwatch members aren’t exactly outfitted in luxury.

“How so?” There is a grin waiting on Genji’s lips. The corners of his mouth twitch, “I only want to sleep in a little bit.”

“Just sleeping in?” Jesse asks.

Genji shifts, lifting his arms to pull Jesse towards him. He kisses his lips, and then the corner of his mouth, and then his jaw.

He says, “Just sleeping in.”

Jesse says, “For one, you have terrible morning breath,” and he laughs, and Genji really does enjoy hearing that laughter. That joy. “And secondly, you sure know how to tempt a guy, huh?”

“I specialize in it,” says Genji, and he kisses Jesse’s neck, “Besides, don’t you  _like_  testing limits, sharpshooter?” He feels Jesse’s hand on his hip.

“You’ve got me there,” Jesse says, and he kisses Genji’s lips again.

* * *

Jesse and Gabriel spend the afternoon in the practice range. Genji watches. They’re mainly focusing on Jesse’s shooting.

Gabriel says, “I have never known someone whose aim gets progressively  _worse_  as time goes on, you know that?” Genji can tell that he doesn’t mean it.

Jesse hits the center of the target twice. He hits the outer ring twice. Gabriel extends an olive branch. “If you manage to break the tie I’ll let you off early today.”

Jesse looks over at Genji, who raises his eyebrows and allows a smirk to cross his face. “I wish you luck, cowboy,” says Genji. Jesse’s expression is hard to read, but something flashes over him. He smiles at Genji and turns to the target.

“I’ll take that bet, Gabe,” he says, and he twirls the gun in his hand.

“Quit playing around,” says Gabriel. Jesse quits playing around. “Showing off will get you killed on the battlefield, McCree.”

Jesse shrugs good-naturedly. He shows his teeth when he smiles. “Watch and learn, Gabe.” He glances at Genji and meets his eyes.

Genji smiles. Jesse misses the target. 

* * *

Moira holds up a clipboard with a set of checkboxes and statements from Genji. He spent about ten minutes filling it out earlier.

She says, “Your report of the last few weeks indicates an increase in phantom pain. Is this accurate?” She truly does fit the part of a doctor, careful and scrutinizing.

“I wouldn’t put it down if it wasn’t,” says Genji, and Moira raises a thin eyebrow at him. He usually doesn’t say much during their sessions.

“An affirmative grunt would have worked fine,” says Moira, “There is little I can do about it aside from arrange a meeting with Dr. Ziegler, if you’d like her to talk very softly at you.”

Dr. Ziegler is kind, or she is at least of a gentler ilk than O’Deorain. Moira is familiar, but she is jagged, harsh. She has a low opinion of Ziegler.

“Or, I suppose you’d call her Angela,” says Moira, “She’s very busy with the official Overwatch business, but I’m sure she wouldn’t mind making a business visit to her favorite pet project.”

Genji winces. Moira says, “Oh, don’t be like that. I’m not being rude, I’m telling the truth. She’s very fond of you,” she pauses, “I’m not. You shouldn’t prioritize any patient over another, you know. At the end of the day, they’re a responsibility.”

They are deadweight on Moira’s shoulders. They are a burden on her, and a price for the research she is allowed with Blackwatch. Genji looks at her with narrowed eyes.

“But you weren’t here to listen to me rant about the good doctor, were you?” she says, “We should get your vitals, and a blood test. We haven’t done one of those in a criminally long time.”

Genji is mostly quiet when she takes his vitals. He sucks in air through his teeth when she gives him the shot needed for his blood test.

* * *

Jesse’s room, on the bed. They listen to music and enjoy each other’s company. Jesse has an arm wrapped around Genji’s shoulders.

He asks, “What’s it like?” looking at Genji’s robotics—the space where his chest transitions from skin to metal. Genji knew this was coming.

“Painful,” he says, “I have yet to get used to it.”

Jesse nods. “You know,  you aren’t different,” and he only seems to realize the curiousness of this statement—and the vagueness—after Genji gives him a look. He elaborates, “From anyone. You aren’t different from, y’know, me. Or Gabe. Or anyone.”

Genji doesn’t believe that. Genji will spend a lifetime not believing that. Still, he says, “Thank you.”

Jesse presses his lips to Genji’s temple.

* * *

Genji talks to Overwatch agents from the main division, sometimes. Today, particularly, as he has been sent to main headquarters for an appointment with Angela. Moira wasn’t lying when she said she’d set it up for him, at least.

He is unused to Overwatch, really. They’re different from Blackwatch. Less bleak, with a certain optimism that Genji has kept a certain distance from since his incident.

(Snakes. Sparrow. Song.)

Still, they are kind. They are unifying forces for good, and if Genji were not so knowledgeable of the actions behind it all—the black behind Overwatch’s white—and if he were living a different life, if he were allowed such menial pleasures, he might idolize their heroics. As it stands, he merely acknowledges them. He is fond of a few of them.

Lena is energetic and kind. Her brown eyes shine when she speaks of the latest Overwatch achievements or of her own personal life. She’s happy-go-lucky and there is this sense of hopefulness overflowing in her.

Genji appreciates that. She reflects the better parts of him, though they have faded in himself.

Reinhardt and Torbjorn are older, and they regard the world with different attitudes. Reinhardt views it with the same lens of optimism as any Overwatch operative. Heroism and glory are important to him, but they take a backseat to the safety of his team. They’re like a family to him.

(Genji is not sure if Blackwatch could ever be such a family. There is certainly a sense of camaraderie between them, but it is outlined with a knowledge of their purpose as an organisation. They are not the ones who are meant for heroism.

Still, some of them might be remembered.)

Torbjorn is objective. He takes great pride in his own creations—be they his mechanical work or his actual children—and he treats his teammates with a strict sense of friendliness. He cares for them, but he understands that this is a job. A job that they must be prepared for, should any danger come to them.

Angela is, safe to say, Genji’s favorite of the Overwatch operatives. She reminds him of better times and worse ones alike, but she is always a symbol of stability. She is kinder than his usual medic, and she regards him with such a sense of warmth that he can think of something other than the pain of his condition. He can feel like he matters for a moment.

She takes a look at his chart. She says, “Phantom pains, huh?” and there is certainly pity in her smile, which Genji doesn’t appreciate, but he understands. “We could work on exercises regarding them, if you like.”

They do.

Nearing the end of their session, Angela says, “I have to ask,” and she pauses, glancing at the chart again, “Despite this, you’ve stated that your overall mood has improved in daily life.”

Genji nods, “I’ve been getting to know my colleagues a bit more. It helps to have friends.”

Angela raises an eyebrow, and there is an inkling of suspicion on her face, but she lets a smile come to it. “It certainly does, Genji.” 

* * *

Genji returns to Blackwatch HQ to discover little in the way of change. He meets Jesse in the mess hall, sitting with Gabriel.

Jesse says, “If you ever get another one of those doctor’s appointments, you have to set me up for one,” when Genji gets home. “No offense intended to O’Deorain, but she ain’t exactly the gentlest.”

Gabriel gives Jesse a warning look, much like an older brother would chastise his little sibling. Genji bristles at the familiarity.

(Bad comparison.)

“She doesn’t have to be. She’s a medic,” says Gabriel.

“All I’m saying is I’d be much more willing to get surgery from the angel than, you know,” Jesse says, “The opposite.”

“I’m not sure insinuating that one of our teammates is the devil is the best course of action,” Genji says, his tone playful. Gabriel chuckles, but he soon realizes the origin of the comment, turning to Genji curiously.

“Was that a joke?” he asks. Genji often forgets that people don’t know him for his humor here—or, well, people who aren’t Jesse.

“Oh yeah, Genji tells them all the time,” says Jesse, “A dry sense of humor, this one.”

“Huh,” says Gabriel, “I didn’t realize.”

Genji says, “That’s why the joke works. It’s unexpected.”

Jesse gives him a knowing look. Genji smiles at him.

* * *

Gabriel is changing. Gabriel is changing drastically. Gabriel is changing in a way no man ever should. Moira is orchestrating this change.

They demonstrate it during a small skirmish—a little squabble with a Talon-like company that should be easily wiped out. Gabriel becomes a shadow of a person. Gabriel steals the health of enemies. Gabriel changes.

Moira reaps some unknown benefit.

* * *

Genji sleeps in his own bed tonight—no Jesse to fool around with, unfortunately. He wakes in the middle of the night to the stinging in his arms and legs, and the pain like a heavy object on his chest.

The actual phantom pain feels bad—it feels like his whole body is on fire for a moment. It tenses and itches and eventually it trickles down, like rain filtering through the leaves of a tree—but it is followed by something worse.

The trigger for Genji’s anxiety is yet to be figured out. Angela and Moira alike are at a loss regarding it, and instead they have asked Genji to try and take notes. His surroundings during the incidents, the events preceding them. He never does. Genji cannot begin to make sense of his triggers, nor his pains.

He just feels so _useless._  So trapped in his own body, in his own flesh and skin. So alone in his own personal qualms, wallowing in this miserable affair he has made of himself. In this miserable affair that Overwatch has made of him. In this miserable affair that Hanzo has put upon him.

_(Hanzo_ —Genji’s brother, a former protector, has now ascended to a point where he is neither. He is simply Hanzo Shimada, the newest heir to the empire.

And Genji is the dead sparrow on the ground beneath the nest, his body left to the soil. Genji has had his song kicked out of him, and the world has attested that it was the right decision.)

He is thinking too much.

So, like that first night, he stops thinking and he knocks on Jesse’s door. Jesse answers. He always does, he’s reliable that way.

Jesse is a shining light in bleak times such as these. He is messy and Genji’s affection for him is almost inexplicable, but it isn’t. It’s explained by every little thing—every little joke they share, every little smile Jesse brings to Genji’s face, every little bit of support he offers—it’s all very explicable. Genji almost wishes it wasn’t so, because he wouldn’t be so afraid if it weren’t.

Jesse answers, “You okay?” in his own tired voice. Genji blinks.

“I think,” he pauses, “I’d like to be near you, tonight.”

* * *

Genji rests his head on Jesse’s chest. He runs a hand over Jesse’s tattoo. A skull and chains and wings. Deadlock certainly had an aesthetic in mind.

“Tell me about you,” he says, “before Blackwatch. Before everything.”

Jesse threads his fingers through Genji’s black hair. He says, “Before everything? That’s a long time, honey,” he pauses, and there’s a certain fondness when he looks at Genji. He says, “You’re lucky I’m soft on you, you know that?”

Genji knows.

Jesse starts with, “Grew up in New Mexico, got involved in a couple of bad stunts,” and Genji can only imagine what those bad stunts consisted of. He tries to imagine a young Jesse getting caught with the wrong crowd. “I was, uh, seventeen, I think, when Gabe caught us.”

“That’s young,” says Genji.

“You know it,” says Jesse, “I was a rebel. Hopefully that’s your type.”

“It certainly is,” says Genji, “How could you ever think otherwise? Do you even know me?”

Jesse smiles, and there’s that fondness again. It seeps into his expression without warning. He returns to his story, “I guess Blackwatch made me a better kid, certainly better than I would have been with Deadlock, or on my own,” he stops, then, and he asks, “What about you?”

“Me? We were just talking about _you,_  Jesse,” Genji says, “You aren’t the type to deflect. I am. It’s literally one of my best tactics.”

“I’m just curious,” he says. Genji indulges his curiosity.

He tries to find the best place to start. He says, “I was what you would call a playboy.”

_“No,”_  says Jesse, with mock astonishment, “You’re telling me that Genji Shimada, heir to a million dollar crime empire, was a bit of a playboy? I can’t believe it.”

“It’s true,” Genji nods, “When I wasn’t combat training I was flirting with supermodels across the globe. It’s truly a lifestyle I had nailed down. I’m jealous of past me.” He really is, but he tries to say it in jest. Tries not to let that honesty reveal itself. Jesse mulls it over.

“I dunno,” he says, “I think I like this Genji a bit more.”

Genji raises an eyebrow, “And why is that?”

“Well,” says Jesse, “playboy Genji sounds interesting and all, but I’m not sure he’d ever give me the time of day, not with all those supermodels he’s flirting with.”

Genji laughs, “Of course he would,” he looks up at Jesse, lifting himself up and moving to be closer to his face. He presses a kiss to Jesse’s lips, “After all, rebels are his type.”

* * *

They’re tired in the morning, and they walk into practice together. They stand a convenient distance apart and act like strangers to ward away suspicion.

Gabriel says, “McCree, I need to speak to you outside,” and he leads Jesse into the hallway. Genji focuses on his practice. He manages to evade several attacks from an omnic practice bot. He has to up the simulation difficulty for it to provide any real challenge.

Practice passes without much interference. Occasionally, Genji thinks of Jesse.

* * *

While they are alone—in the dark of the hallway between their rooms, keeping cautious watch on the doors to make sure they aren’t interrupted—Jesse says, “Gabe’s picking a fight with Talon again.”

“Again?” asks Genji.

“Again,” Jesse answers, “I’m going with him to Roman facility to consult their team. Mainly Gérard.”

Gérard is an Overwatch member who remains quite the mystery to Genji. He seems nice—welcoming, even—but Genji has never had the opportunity to talk to the man for longer than a few minutes.

“Be safe,” he says.

Jesse says, “Of course I’ll be,” and he adds, “You don’t get yourself into any trouble here, okay?”

“Without you? I wouldn’t dare.”


End file.
